


got me feeling kind of cagey

by Encrypt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Chastity Device, Dom Shiro (Voltron), Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sub Keith (Voltron), don't even know just read the summary fam, it's keith in a chastity belt guys, shiro's smug as shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 14:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18283868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Encrypt/pseuds/Encrypt
Summary: Keith’s learned patience.Shiro tests it with a chastity belt.





	got me feeling kind of cagey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imagines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagines/gifts).



> Me: but also, consider Keith in a chastity belt for a straight week
> 
> [NSFW link](https://www.amazon.com/Strict-Leather-Safety-Chastity-Harness/dp/B0084FJ8II) for reference if you want pics of the belt. pretty close to what i was imagining keith in.
> 
> And this is how this whole mess got started. Everyone is safe, sane, and consensual here. enjoy.

There’s an odd sense of comfort in giving himself over to Shiro, Keith realizes.

He says this out loud one night, after being spent and wrecked into oblivion, fingers gnarled into the sheets from Shiro riding him to kingdom come.

Shiro looks at him with something like wonder, starlight hair still mussed as he drags the sheets back over their bodies, filth be damned.

“I’m glad you feel like that around me,” he says quietly, reaching down to lace their fingers together. “But why?”

The lingering self-doubt tugs something loose in Keith’s chest.

“It’s you,” he says, and it always troubles him, how as many words as he might learn there’s never enough to tell Shiro what he means. He runs a thumb along the side of Shiro’s knuckle where their hands meet, pressing almost too hard. “Shiro, you taught me so much about myself.”

“Didn’t need to teach you anything, babe,” and Keith can’t help the low swoop of heat in his chest even with his own come smeared across their legs and thighs. Shiro tangles their legs together, heedless of this fact.

“You taught me patience,” Keith says, worrying the soft expanse of skin just under Shiro’s collarbone with his teeth as they press flush together.

“Did I now?” There’s a glint in Shiro’s eye now, the same reckless smirk across his face that he gets before he guns the hoverbike over the brink of the cliff.

“Yeah,” Keith says, mouth suddenly dry.

“Want to show me?” Shiro’s voice drops straight into Keith’s gut and trickles far, far south.

Keith pretends he doesn’t shudder as he breathes _yeah_ into Shiro’s chest.

He’s always loved a challenge.

\---

When Shiro shows up with leather looped in hand, he can barely strip down fast enough.

He’s already half hard, cock jumping slightly when Shiro leans in to kiss him, sending fire searing through his veins when they finally draw apart, panting. Shiro wets his lips, pulling back just enough to shake out what he’s holding – and Keith’s brain sputters to a stop.

It’s a chastity belt, he registers faintly, eyes traveling from the waist to the _modest_ pocket of criss-crossed leather where he thinks the crotch is.

“Can I?” There’s a hint of a canine in Shiro’s grin, and Keith is just this side of turning around and bending over for it.

“Yeah,” he says, breathier than he means and completely unapologetic for it.

“So you said something about patience,” he drawls out, and Keith’s cock _throbs_. “How’s a week sound to you?”

The floor drops out from under him, even as he bares his teeth and meets Shiro with confidence he doesn’t quite feel.

“Do your worst, _captain_.”

There’s a flash in Shiro’s eyes.

He steps closer.

\---

Keith feels _vulnerable_.

It’s been two days. Two days since Shiro locked him into this contraption with a padlock at his tailbone and a little smack across his ass as he was sent off to get dressed for a meeting, two days of his cock positively straining against the leather, two days that his cock’s been eager for attention and received absolutely none.

Shiro won’t even really touch him, except for quick little brushes of skin, chaste kisses, petal soft against his jaw and neck.

So when Shiro finally gets him alone Keith’s _hungry_ for him, wild for the way his hands splay against his back and nearly span the small of his back, for the press of his thighs between Keith’s legs, and the drag of five o’clock shadow against his cheek. Keith is frantic, hands wandering over and under as Shiro murmurs _good boy_ into his ear and presses him harder against the wall of their room.

The snap of the padlock catches his attention, but Shiro ruts against his thigh and his mind goes delightfully blank – he’s soaking wet against the leather, moaning into Shiro’s ear, and if Shiro would just let up for a second he’d be fully hard for the first time in days –

Except there’s something wet and hard and achingly _wide_ pressed into him, and Keith tries to buck up, away from it, towards it, he’s not sure, but Shiro presses in until his hands are wrapped around Keith’s asscheeks and the padlock clicks closed again, the plug firmly inside of him and ever so slightly pressing against a fine bundle of nerves inside him.

“See you at the meeting,” Shiro breathes into his ear, combing one hand through his hair and straightening his uniform even as Keith shudders, pants around his knees and jacket hanging open. He can see the flush of his skin down to his belly, and he feels absolutely debauched.

He straightens, grits his teeth as he straightens slowly, haltingly, dick pulsing dully against its sleeve.

Right. Meeting.

\---

Keith makes it on his own two feet somehow. He sits ramrod straight, can’t help but shift sometimes because he's _aching_ for any sensation that isn’t just leather.

So he shifts.

But he readjusts his seating and the sensation of the plug prickles through his gut and up his spine and he swears he's going to come on the spot, even as Iverson blathers on about trade deals of Krispy Kreme to some vaguely centaurion aliens.

But he works through it, even if he has to swipe a bead of sweat trickling from his temple, and Shiro smirks over his datapad for a moment as their eyes meet.

\---

"Babe." Shiro's voice is low in his ear, and he's been so touch-starved the whole week that the warm air that curls over the shell of his ear has him shuddering, flush spreading from his neck to his chest. He can't help the way Shiro over him, mouthing wet and filthy down his chest to his sternum where blushing skin fades to tan, flashes across the forefront of his mind. "How you doing there?"

Shock flies up his chest before he suddenly realizes the conference room is empty, devoid of all life, and thank god because he's hyperaware of how his breathing's gone shallow and his lips are parted.

He must look obscene, he thinks faintly, as Shiro leans into him with just a bit more pressure. The motion presses the table against his sternum, closes what little space there is between his uniform and his nipples and the material scrapes clean across them and he outright keens in the silence.

"I dismissed them," Shiro says, mouth pressed to his earlobe so he can feel each tender brush of his lips, and god, there's a current of dark humor in his voice that runs straight through Keith's body. "Room's locked."

He twists, desperate for something, anything more than Shiro's teasing because he's so close and so warm and the broadness of his shoulders against Keith's back sends twisting warmth straight to the head of his cock. He can feel it weeping, straining in its confines and streaming with precome that's just trickling down his half-hard length, and he would be rock hard but there's just _no room_ to go.

He finds Shiro's mouth clumsily – nearly misses, but Shiro cups his face with a gentle touch, never pressing, never _enough_ , but the sensation of their lips brushing together already has his dick surging to life against the unyielding leather of the belt and he makes a desperate grab at the lapels of Shiro's uniform, heedless of the wrinkles that Shiro's sure to get shit for later. He grips the material tightly, finding gravity in the texture and delightfully cold buttons as he draws in a deep, shuddering breath to steady himself.

But Shiro shies away when he tries to tug himself closer, tries to lap at the seam of Shiro's lips, desperate to bury himself in warmth and fullness, to crash his mouth against Shiro's skin and lose himself in fire for the rest of his life.

Chasing Shiro costs him, and it costs him dearly.

The motion jolts the plug and white-hot pleasure-pain surges through him, a cry tearing out of his throat as he squabbles for purchase, fingers cramping painfully as his grip goes white-knuckled and his vision vignettes at the edges.

It's painful, almost, how turned on he is, how every little motion now presses the plug up against the bundle of nerves that sparks a frenzy into his blood. He can hear his heart in his ears as he tries desperately to find a comfortable sitting position again, mewling as his cock pulses weakly. His foreskin's drawn back just enough that he can feel the mess of his own precome puddled against the leather, viscous and filthy wet, and his cock twitches to life as best it can – which, really, is not enough at this point.

"Fuck, Keith, look at you," he faintly registers Shiro saying. Shiro finally, finally laves his tongue against Keith's pulse, and that's when he realizes that low hum in the background is a long, drawn out moan from his own mouth, helplessly falling from his lips.

He finally settles into a precariously perched position on the edge of his seat, still half-twisted in his chair, panting, senses slowly, slowly returning to him. Shiro's hand is warm against his side, tracing careful lines up and down his ribcage. He feels like a brand of fire, blood lit up in agony and ecstasy still even when he can finally look back up at Shiro, swallowing dryly.

"Four more days, baby, do you think you can do it?" and Keith nods slowly, deliberately. He has to, because he can, and Shiro will make sure he's taken care of.

He nearly weeps at the look on Shiro's face, utterly smitten and beaming.

Somehow, he makes it out of the room, Shiro's gaze seared into his back even as his knees wobble just a bit.

\---

Day four passes, and somehow, Keith figures out how to breathe. Figures out how to respond in strings of words that make sentences, even when he stands and his vision whites out for a brief moment, pleasure almost taking his knees out from under him.

He's not ready for day five.

He has literally no warning. He's in the shower in their room, scrubbing sweat and grime from his skin after a training exercise in the field earlier.

He thinks he's got it figured out, when ecstasy screams up his spine and brings him crashing to his knees on the tile, crying out despite himself, already half-hard and sluggish with arousal.

It takes him a long, agonizing few seconds as water streams down his face to realize the euphoria is actually from _inside him_ , and it's not stopping.

There's horror mixed with lust brewing in his chest, as Shiro steps into view, naked and unashamed of the way his cock bobs heavy with each step towards the shower. Jealousy flashes hot through him with the sight, his cock aching from being locked up all week, but it's tamped down viciously as he watches Shiro tap something on his prosthetic and the buzzing ticks up just a notch below unbearable.

Keith scrambles along the floor as Shiro approaches, gathering the pieces of his coordination to wind up on all fours in a mindless attempt to make room for Shiro as he pulls the glass aside. The rush of cool air nearly has Keith wailing in relief.

"Surprise," Shiro says, and there's a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Color?"

"Green," Keith gasps out, and Shiro leans down to trace one finger down his spine from the knob at his neck to his tailbone. Keith arches involuntarily, and Shiro's face turns fond and warm.

"You're like a cat stretching," he says, and Keith feels himself go all warm again, ready to retort, but the buzzing inside of him has stolen all his words and some guttural noise leaves his lips instead. "God, you look so good."

Keith nods frantically, because he's good, he's good, he'll be good for Shiro, and he presses up and forward on his knees to nuzzle at Shiro's cock.

"Can I," he croaks out, voice rough and dragging. "Can I get you off?"

There's a familiar look that floats across Shiro's face, equal parts wonder and delight. "How are you even real?"

"Ask Slav for that probability," he snipes, and pretends his voice doesn't shake when the low-lying buzz presses just against his prostate again when he settles onto his heels.

He almost laughs when Shiro's face goes weird and pinched at the mere mention of the alien, but he nuzzles an apology against white curls and the jut of Shiro's cock, dragging his tongue down the full length of the vein on the underside of it. He figures the groan he draws out is forgiveness enough.

He inhales, shuddering, filling his lungs as though breath will be his barrier against the very real threat of coming explosively without ever actually being fully hard.

He opens his mouth, stretches his jaw experimentally for a couple seconds before he looks up at Shiro, grins ferally as he carefully, carefully, pulls back the foreskin with one trembling hand, pleasure still shocking through him with every breath. He can't help the thrill that runs through him when Shiro presses his hands flat against the wall, chest heaving as they lock eyes with each other. Water is dripping down Shiro's hair into his face, down every muscle, every scar.

He looks like a god come to life, and Keith is all too eager to lay himself at his feet for it.

Keith's throbbing around the plug, he's so full, and yet not enough. The plug is well-sized, nearly Shiro's girth, but he wants to be split open on Shiro's cock six ways to sunday when he won't get it for another three.

"Keith," Shiro says, and it brings him back for a second, takes him out of the cage and shower and leaves just them, before each other. He brings one hand from the tiles to brush a knuckle against Keith's face. "You're crying."

The concern is so raw in his voice that Keith nearly comes undone, nearly gives into the pleasure and the warmth flooding his chest all at once. He reaches his own hand up to his face, finds lukewarm brine against fingertips. "I am," Keith says, surprised. He looks back at Shiro, shakes his head slowly. "I'm okay. It's just..."

His voice dies in his throat, and he can't find the words, can't pour into them everything this means.

"I love you," he says finally, and Shiro's face lights up like fireworks before he leans down, laces their fingers together, and it's one of the most tender kisses they've ever shared, even with Keith's dick in a leather cage and one hand still wrapped around Shiro's cock.

When Shiro leans back, eyes crackling with familiar fire, Keith makes certain to stare back at him unblinking as he loosens his jaw and sinks forward until he's buried lips to curls, Shiro's eyes rolling back and head falling back against the wall with a thud that rings throughout the small bathroom.

Keith swallows, elated tears coursing down his cheeks now because he went too fast, and it hurts, but fuck he's full for the first time in days and his belly tightens at the thought, pleasure coursing anew into his veins as he works himself slowly, slowly, dragging his lips off of Shiro's dick until he's just grazing Shiro's tip, lips against the slit and Shiro's stutter of "K-Keith, fuck, oh, oh _fuck_ \- " reverberating in his ears and chest.

He smiles, and works himself back down furiously, bobbing faster, popping off every now and then to mouth at Shiro's balls, watch the way his cock jumps and his thighs tremble, and all the while electricity, inside of him, ever a reminder of Shiro's faith in his control as he works his mouth along the side of Shiro's dick, tonguing the gentle curve.

He can't wait, can't wait to sink back down onto it, to feel the coarse hair of Shiro's legs against the soft skin of his thighs, and he's so hard he could burst, even if his erection is little more than a pathetic tug against leather.

He sinks home one last time, stops breathing altogether and works his throat once, twice, three times, and Shiro's shout as he comes, pulsing against the back of Keith's neck, is almost as good as he imagines release could be.

\---

He thinks day six is the worst so far.

Shiro locks eyes with him as they pass in the hallway, nodding once. It's brief, professional, and expected between two of the most powerful beings on the ship.

And then his gut lurches, pleasure crashing down on him like a tidal wave as he bites the inside of his cheek sharply. He tastes blood against one suddenly sharp canine, and he has to hurry to the bathroom to press his face against the blessedly cool wall of a stall, teeth buried in the cuff of his sleeve as he cups himself. He imagines he can feel it, even as he clenches around the plug, still vibrating away.

His cock gives a weak twitch in response, and Keith has to wipe away more tears before he leaves.

\---

And then he wakes day seven.

Some part of his brain preens in delight, because at midnight, he'll be free. Free to touch and be aroused and sprawl himself across Shiro's warm, welcoming body, and he shivers even under the covers.

Except. Wait. There are no covers now.

It's his day off, and Shiro is standing over him, one gentle hand on his chest and metal bangles in the other, and Keith's mind sputters to a stop as his mouth gapes open. "Shiro?"

"Do you trust me?"

Heart in his throat, Keith nods. Shiro grins wolfishly, delighted. "Can you take your clothes off?"

He almost rips his shirt with how fast he goes, gooseflesh across his skin as he lies down uncertainly, somehow feeling more vulnerable than ever.

Then Shiro takes his limbs, one by one, gentle as ever and kissing each digit as he goes, and snaps the bangles around his ankles and wrists. "Be good for me," he murmurs low against Keith's ear as he slips a blindfold over him. "I'll take care of you later, okay? Until then, can you hold back for me?"

Keith nods around the lump in his throat, and hears the click of a button before his limbs are pulled taut, legs spread. His cock's still in the leather cage but he feels like he's more naked than ever.

Suddenly warm fingers draw across his chest, tweaking at his nipples, and he bucks, or tries to.

"I'll be back," Shiro says, voice like gravel.

The door shuts as the vibrator suddenly ratchets up up _up_ –

His scream rings through the room. He's hot to the core, alone, and he can't touch _anything_.

Fuck.

But he'll be good. He'll be good.

The vibrations suddenly turn down and he gasps for air like a drowning man.

It's the longest break he gets over the next six hours.

\---

He's going to make it, he swears, breathing, chest heaving. He tries to curl in on himself weakly but just manages to barely crunch towards his right side, desperate to seek out some patch of bed not soaked in sweat.

He's out of his mind, delirious with pleasure, hanging on by the thinnest, thinnest thread of his self-control. He's been deprived of the world except for the way his dick tries to harden fully and fails, the way his foreskin slides just ever so slightly, teasingly, along his shaft. He's cold and hot and _cold_ but everything inside him burns, eddies of euphoria that swirl through his chest and grip at his lungs and his throat, raw from shrieking.

He's going to make it, he swears, breathing, chest heaving. He tries to curl in on himself weakly but just manages to barely crunch towards his right side, desperate to seek out some patch of bed not soaked in sweat.

He drifts in, and out, waking to orgasm nearly bearing down on him like some masochistic alarm clock, crying out as he struggles against it.

"Keith?"

He snaps his head towards the sound of Shiro's voice washing over him, tries to say hi, whimpers instead. Shiro's hand cups under his head, so, so careful, and he can't help but lean into the sensation. Even that much has his cock twitching from the new sensation. There's a bottle of water, pressed to his lips, and he opens his mouth to drink.

"Color?"

"Green," he says, feels a smile pull at his lips. "God, Shiro."

"They call me Atlas sometimes," Shiro says, and he groans. "It's almost over, baby. You good?"

"Perfect," he breathes. "Hit me with your best shot."

Shiro's snort is closer to the door this time. "Okay, spitfire. You asked for it."

The door closes again.

And the buzzing just – stops.

Keith's heart drops in his chest.

\---

There's nothing but the sheets for company, the strain at his wrists, the pull at his ankles. He's exposed and half hard and there is _nothing_ to pull his focus from the cage now.

His brain is frenzied at the lack of sensation, breathing shallow, and fuck he's hard. He's hard at _nothing_ , hard at the fact that his brain feels like it's floating from his body from the total lack of stimulation, not even the hum of the ship's engines for company. All he can think is Shiro, Shiro, Shiro did this to me, and moans a little when precome spurts from his tip. He tries to wriggle, tries to find friction of any sort, but there's nothing at all.

\---

He drifts, again. At this point he feels like he's heat embodied, crazed from sensory deprivation, fingers desperately exploring their neighbors for something – anything –

The door opens, and he almost sobs. "Shiro. Shiro, please, please, _please_ \- "

"I got you," Shiro says, and it washes over him like a cool blanket, a soothing balm to his nerves. He hears a click and his limbs drop bonelessly onto the bed, and he's moving, moving, stumbling on his knees as Shiro pulls his blindfold off and settles hands onto him with so much pressure, so much desire he could fly apart.

"Shiro," he says again, and there are no words left for the way Shiro reaches for his hips and grips them, almost bruising. He's overwhelmed, so overwhelmed he misses the click as the belt is released. All he knows is his cock springs free and the rush of blood is almost painful in how good it feels, bouncing lewdly against his thigh as he hardens to full for the first time in what feels like years.

Shiro suddenly pulls him forward by the legs so they're pressed crotch to crotch, hiking his legs over his shoulders as he looks down at Keith, breathless. "Oh, baby, you've been so good."

"Wanna come," Keith moans out, blissed out just from being manhandled. "Shiro, please, _please_ – "

"I got you, sweetheart, I've got you," Shiro says, low and quiet, as his hands trace down the backs of Keith's thighs to his ass to pull the plug out.

He cries out involuntarily - he feels so empty, so empty after days of being full but never full enough, and it'd be embarrassing how desperate he is if not for the irrational sense of loss spilling across his brain.

Shiro's murmuring, quiet, sweet nothings, looking at him like he holds the world. "Can I?" he says, and Keith nods furiously, gripping at the sheets as finally, finally, Shiro's cock swirls against his rim, wet and aching – he can feel himself fucking pulse just with that motion – and Shiro sinks deep into him so his vision goes white with pleasure, a wail tearing from his throat.

"Oh, fuck, Shiro – fuck – " he's so full after so long, and there's a hand wrapping around his cock, engulfing his length to pull once, twice.

It's all he needs to tip over the edge, screaming himself raw as he lets go and bursts all over his own chest and face, hips thrusting back against Shiro and his knees pulsing next to his ears. All he can hear is his heartbeat, ecstasy spilling over him as Shiro fucks him through the aftershocks.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're beautiful," Shiro says through gritted teeth, and suddenly Keith finds his legs slipping from Shiro's shoulders. He shudders, still curling into himself with each shake, cock twitching weakly and spent.

He has just enough presence of mind to realize Shiro's flipping him over and driving back into him with a hand wrapped around the base of his throat as his knees go friction-burned under Shiro's force.

"Too much?" Shiro says into his ear, surprisingly coherent, and Keith shakes his head.

"More," is all he gets out, before Shiro _shifts_ and starts pounding up and into his prostate and fuck it hurts and it's so _soon_ but euphoria never fully left him, never released him from its clutches, and now it's building in his gut again because Shiro is hard, inside him, pulling out long to tease before he plows back inside Keith, and when he manages to glance down he's rock hard again, gasping when Shiro thrusts back particularly fiercely.

"Shiro," he says. "Shiro, Shiro, I'm gonna - "

"Ruin yourself, babe," Shiro breathes, and it's all Keith needs to come apart again, convulsing with a breathless moan, mouth open and wanton as he spills again weakly onto his thighs and the sheets. And Shiro keeps going.

"Fuck," he says, because it hurts, but each thrust forces another little spurt out of him and he's putty in Shiro's hands. "Fuck - fuck - _fuck_ \- Shiro, I can't, I can't – "

"You can," Shiro growls, and Keith shatters again, dry this time as his orgasm washes over him, relentless in its pace and agony gone pleasurable as he comes so hard he tips forward onto the bed, little sounds still being pulled out of him with every throb in his gut, hands clenching and unclenching in the aftermath as he lies there, moaning with Shiro still thrusting inside him, chasing him to the sheets and bearing down on him with his body.

"Keith - Keith, I'm gonna – " Shiro’s thrusts are shallower now, quick, _precise._

"Come for me," he says, still trembling and limbs jerking involuntarily every time Shiro hits his prostate. "Takashi, come - come for me - oh, _fuck_ – "

Shiro goes rigid behind him, going, "Oh, oh, fuck, _Keith_ – " before he's hot across Keith's shoulders, pulling at him, needing to hold him as he spills inside him and his hips push Keith into the mattress. It's breathtaking in more ways than one, and leaves Keith weak and reeling with delight when Shiro collapses to the sheets next to him, gently unfolding his legs and sweeping sweat-matted hair from his face.

"You did so good," Shiro says, and Keith keens with pleasure as he curls up against Shiro. "I can't believe you."

Keith can't help but flush at that, tucking his face against Shiro's chest even as Shiro runs a soothing hand up and down his back as he holds him close, presses kisses into sweat-matted hair and kneading gently at the knots he finds.

“Didn’t think I could,” Keith finally murmurs against the pale line of a scar. “You helped. You always help.”

He tips his head up just enough to see the glint of Shiro’s smile, and gathers what’s left of his flagging strength to scramble up on the sheets and taste it on his lips. It floods him with warmth, mellows out his edges, as his eyes flutter open to the utterly besotted look on Shiro’s face.

“I love you,” Shiro breathes, and their noses brush as Keith tucks his face back against the line of Shiro’s neck, sighing, sated and content.

He could stay like this forever, he thinks, as he drifts off to sleep with Shiro's hand combing through his hair.

Shiro always takes care of him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you were anything like me, you were screaming in the background about how logically, Keith needs to take a piss, and yes, he should have had way more water, and it probably really, really is not good for your skin to be in a leather chastity belt for a week straight.  
> …I eventually got the voice of reason to shut up long enough to write. Hope y’all enjoyed.
> 
> find my existential crisis on [twitter](https://twitter.com/waxenwinged/)!


End file.
